Broken Smiles
by Shoujiko-remains
Summary: Nobody knows Italy's past, or the things that still haunt him. Nobody can see underneath the broad smile. That is, except for one, the one Italy tries the hardest to keep out. GerIta.
1. Chapter 1

He was hidden. He was broken. He was dead.

He could not cry, having used up all his tears long ago.

His happiness had long since fallen away, and he no longer knew how to laugh.

Pain was only a word to him.

His name was Feliciano.

Otherwise known as Italy, the brunette was called 'bouncy', 'loud', and, despite everything inside of him, 'happy'. The other countries didn't have the slightest clue as to what he went through, or what he thought about when he was alone. None of them knew a thing, and that's the way he liked it best. The seldom times he saw them at world meetings, he pasted on an oblivious smile and fluffed up his obnoxious curl, pretending as if everything in his world was absolutely perfect and that he was content with the little that he knew.

Oh, how the others envied him.

Oh, how he envied the others.

This particular meeting was extremely boring, in Italy's opinion. His brother Romano was cursing at his crush Spain, and in the background England and France were beating eachother up again. America and Prussia were looking for Canada, and Greece was asleep on Japan's stiff shoulder. Switzerland was yelling something about warfare, while Russia smiled and rested his broad hands on Latvia's shaking shoulders behind him. Italy sighed and rested his chin in his cupped hand, looking down his long blue sleeve to the fading scars decorating his wrist. Pulling at the rim so nobody could see, he heard someone clearing his throat behind him. Readying his signature smile, he turned around and closed his honey-brown eyes in what so many mistook as a sign of pleasure.

"Ve~?"

"Hullo, Italy. Is somezing wrong?" The tall blonde asked, his back straight and his blue eyes curious. Italy knew that Germany saw him as a friend, and didn't want to disappoint the all-muscle-and-no-brains axis, so he tilted his head to the side and beamed even wider.

"No, of course not, Doitsu~" he answered, his curl bobbing. Germany nodded quickly and returned to the front of the room, once again trying to calm the rowdy countries down. Italy frowned, after checking to see if anyone was looking, and exhaled in annoyance.

Why couldn't this torture just end already?

/+/

Italy lay, face down, on his bed, his eyes shut tightly as memories that refused to leave clamored in his heavy head. Memories of his first love, of the hallucinations that had haunted him ever since the death of said love, of everything that had happened ever since then. Basically, his mind was filled with hated images better left alone.

Before, when he was still living at Austria's house, his smiles had been real. His laughs had meant something, and his heart knew how to beat. But after that…

No. He didn't want to think about it. But soon afterwards, his brother had started to grow more and more distant, spending more time with that Spaniard of his, and it destroyed the last bit of hope that had ever resided in young Feli.

He heard a knock at the front door, shattering his lonely thoughts. Who would be knocking at his door? Grumbling under his breath, he rolled off his bed and stretched, then slipped his uniform top back on, buttoning it as he treaded down the stairs. Pulling the door open, he was met by two pairs of prying eyes, which chose only to see the wide, fake smile pasted on Italy's face. He flung himself first at the almost black pair, catching Japan by surprise, then hugged the bright blue pair belonging to Germany himself, causing him to grunt slightly and a hint of pink to grace his cheeks. Italy didn't notice this reaction, however, as he was too busy screaming internally about how seriously aggravating these two were.

"Ve~ Germany! Japan! Ciao~!" Italy said as energetically as he could muster. Germany grinned and Japan bowed in greeting, then gestured toward the doorway.

"Can we come in prease?" he asked, his accent slurring his English speech.

"Of course!" he replied, stepping aside for his uninvited guests and running into the kitchen, calling out behind him, "I'll make pasta, sí?"

Japan smiled softly. "Hai, that would be nice. Thank you, Itaria-kun"

Germany just nodded curtly, looking around the Italian's living room. Something seemed a little off about it, it seemed dimmer than usual. Lingering in the air was a feeling of darkness and depression, and the bewildered German couldn't shake off the gloom. How could a house holding such a cheerful resident be so… sad?

Italy entered the room, holding three plates of fresh pasta in his arms, setting them down on the coffee table in front of the sofa. "Here you go~!"

As his two companions ate, politely accepting any embellishments or spices the Italian offered, Feliciano sighed inwardly. Although he supposed it was nice for someone to take the time to come and see him, he had to admit to himself that it was probably just because they were all allies, members of the Axis Powers. Otherwise, why would they want to even look at someone like him?

They sat in silence for a while, eating the heaping plates of food Italy had supplied, before Japan's phone rang in his pocket. He jumped in surprise, then fumbled to take the device out. Flipping it open, his dark eyes scanned a text, and a pink complexion spread across his cheeks.

"Um, prease excuse me… Greece just carred… Um, I'rr see you rater!" he said, hurriedly standing up and bowing himself out of the room. Italy smirked at the man's obvious infatuation with the younger country. After a few seconds, he realized it was just him and Germany, and he beamed.

"Hey, Doitsu~ Wassup?" he asked, after clearing the blonde's plate and stashing it away back in the kitchen.

"Oh, um, not much. Training, zhe usual. How have you been, Italy? Zhe house seems depressing."

With his back turned, Italy frowned, annoyed at the perceptive senses of the German. "It's-a nothing!" he said, turning around with another hoax grin on his pale face. It seemed to fool Germany, at least for the time being, so he let it stand there. He wouldn't be going into any detail unless someone asked.

"Oh, and vhat exactly is 'nozing'?"

This startled Italy, although he wouldn't let it show. People didn't usually ask him to elaborate. They just let him be, naturally assuming that all was well in his life.

"Well, um, I went-a to see fratello Romano yesterday. He was-a with Spain…" He couldn't come up with anything. What was wrong with him? Usually he could just spout off whatever nonsense that was on the top of his head, and they would be perfectly fine with it, but in front of this German's scrutinizing stare, he couldn't think of anything that could pass as okay.

"Italy… Vhat is wrong?"

**A/N: Hey guys~! A Hetalia fanfic this time, haha! Yes, completely OOC Italy, I know... But it makes for a good twist, right? Anyway, if you want me to stop writing with the accents, I can, I just thought that it would give it a more Hetalia-esque feel. And I haven't finished watching up to Beautiful World yet, so don't get mad at me if I get something wrong... Anyway, review, favorite, whatever...****Ciao~!**


	2. Chapter 2

+Germany POV+

I watched as Italy stared at me, his mouth slightly open in some kind of shock. Why wouldn't he answer my question? I waited for a while, and was about to repeat myself, when the Italian suddenly smiled.

"Ve, Germany, why would anything be wrong? You're-a here! We're friends, right?"

I frowned. He seemed to be back to normal… but then, what was that pause? I still thought something was seriously bad here, but decided to drop it. Italy obviously didn't want to talk about it. I smiled uncertainly, a rare occurrence, and leaned back on the couch.

"Ja, I suppose." I replied to his earlier statement. He smiled even wider and jumped up, almost knocking the coffee table over. I quickly bent forward to set it straight again, while he giggled.

"Sorry, Doitsu~" he apologized, his honey-colored eyes closed once more, like they usually were when he wasn't in shock. I nodded and stood up, matching Italy's pose.

"So, you want to do something?" I asked, trying to break the ice. "Um, the park?" He hesitated a bit, not enough for anyone to notice, but I did. I saw the way his eyes widened a bit before going back to normal, and he nodded excitedly.

"Sí~!"

+Italy POV+

I followed the annoying German out the door, closing it quietly behind me and then running a little to catch up with his quick strides. The park? I sighed inwardly. Why was he even trying? I could tell he was just trying to be friendly. He didn't mean anything. Of course he didn't, nobody ever did after… him.

To my surprise, we walked right past the small children's park near my house and continued going until we reached Italia in Miniatura. I narrowed my eyes. How did he even know about this? Most people from outside didn't know much about this place. It was one of the smaller amusement parks, literally. We stood at the gate, Germany readying to pay. I placed an unsteady hand on his shoulder.

"Ve, Doitsu, you don't have to pay…" I said, trying my best to smile. He shook my hand off and looked at me, blue eyes piercing.

"But I want to." he answered, catching me by some surprise. I stepped back and obediently let him pay the fee, then walked after him as he swept through the gate in his overly-stiff manner. My face was beginning to hurt from smiling so much, but I couldn't let my guard down. This had to keep up until I could escape from this prison known as Germany. What did he have to gain from this? We had formed an alliance ages ago, and I wasn't exactly the best-looking country out there… He was far too suspicious. As we walked through the theme park, I almost grinned. A real, sincere grin, albeit it would've been dry and barely humourus. Here, spread out for everyone to see, was my country, with all its landmarks and tourist attractions and flaws advertised to all the world, including my companion Germany. How ironic.

I stretched my arms out in front of me, skipping up to Germany's side and beaming widely. I adopted my childish voice, the annoying one that led everyone to believe that I was happy.

"Doitsu, Doitsu, why are we here? I already know my country, silly~!" I said playfully, my hands clasped behind my back in an innocent gesture. He just frowned, like usual.

"I vas zhinking zhat maybe it vould cheer you up." he said gruffly. I could only see the back of his head, but I knew that his face would be feigning impassiveness and trying to cover a blush.

I was a little stunned. Why would he try to cheer me up? How had he known that I was feeling down again? Did he know about anything else? As if reacting to my own thoughts, I tugged at the bottom of my sleeve nervously, attempting to hide the scars even more.

Germany turned around, and I covered up my mystified expression with a clueless smile just in time. He stared at me for a while, then turned back and began walking again.

We walked in silence until I tapped his shoulder. "Thank you, Doitsu!" I said, expressing my fake self's gratefulness at the thoughtful gesture. Inside I just wanted it to end, just wanted to go home and climb into bad and just lay there, with no purpose in life and no love to anchor me down.

The taller country looked down and forced a smile. "No problem, Italy."

How sickening.

As we neared the end of the park, I began talking excitedly about random nonsense to fill the awkwardness surrounding us. We reached the exit, and Germany held up a gloved hand. "I don't really care about vhat jou did wizh a cat and Romano's curl, okay?" he said, his face slightly green. I laughed carelessly, my mask convincing, complete, and Russia-proof.

I skipped out of the mini theme park, glad to be out of there. Well, almost. I wasn't really able to be fully glad about anything anymore. Germany walked me home, and at the door, I waved him off, watching as he drove off. I frowned, opening my eyes, and sighed. Slamming the door, I ran up the stairs and flopped onto my bedroom floor, absolutely exhausted.

Germany looked so much like him. He brought back unwanted memories and tears that I couldn't shed. I felt… angry around him. I guess my heart had finally accepted the fact that I'd never be able to see my first love ever again, and wanted to blame someone for it. So it blamed Germany. Perfect. Just abso-frikking-lutely perfect in every way. One of my only allies in the world was too painful to even look at. I considered going into Romano mode and spouting off curse words like water for a minute, but released as a passing fancy.

I looked over at my top drawer from the floor and noticed that it was halfway open. I stood to close it, but noticed what was inside. I picked it up and examined the sheen of light on the blade, pondering its existence in my life.

I shrugged grimly and walked to the bathroom. What was the difference between thirty-nine and forty-nine, anyway?

+Germany POV+

I drove home, an unsettling thought still nesting in the front of my mind and not leaving.

'Ve, Germany, why would anything be wrong? You're-a here! We're friends, right?'

The sound of Italy's voice resonated through my brain and echoed in my ears, making me question my answer.

Were we friends? I thought we were, but Italy might have different ideas. He had been acting strangely for a while now, and I had no idea why or how to fix the problem. My 'cheering up' had done nothing, it seemed, for the Italian. I could feel my face getting warmer from just the mention of the small boy, and that startled me. Why did I feel like this? I had a strong urge to protect him, to never give him reason to frown again…

What was this?

**A/N: Hey, guys! Thanks for 11 Favorites on just the first chapter! You make me blush... Anyway, This chapter is a little shorter, but please enjoy it nonetheless! I'm speeding things along. Need to work on Trapped Virus... Anywho, Review, Fave, whatever... thank you!**


	3. Chapter 3

**A/N: Just a warning for this chapter, it contains self-harm! Not directly, but mentions and afterwards. So if that makes you uncomfortable, you can just skip tis chapter!**

+Italy POV+

I wiped the staining red from the floor with an old towel, sighing as my hand twitched and the towel flew from my grasp. My pain and useless feelings had all flowed out, along with several tablespoons of blood, leaving me feeling numb (literally, in the case of my left hand), but much more relieved. I retrieved the towel, dropping it into a laundry hamper, then cracking my knuckles and stretching. I slipped on a loose tank top, just in case any more surprise visitors decided to drop by for a friendly chat.

Walking back to my faithful bed, I once again flopped onto my face. What else was there to do but nothing? I smiled dryly into my pillow. Nothing was what I did best, after all. Contradictory to Austria, who seemed to think that all I was good for was free labor. He was right in the end, anyway. Good for nothing but silent work.

Thinking of my days at Austria's place lead me to thoughts of the boy, the one who had left me and broke his promise along with a heart that had once filled the void that now took its place. A feeling still lingered when I pictured him, a faint touch of breath against the last place he ever touched. I raised a shaking hand to my lips, touching them gently, trying to relive his last memento.

I knew I would never be able to, but one could always hope, right? Wrong. What was the point of hope? You'll just be disappointed in the end, disappointed and lost, and you won't ever be able to think or feel the same way ever again. So don't do it.

Anyway, I let my fingers fall away from my mouth and resume their positions at my side, clutching at my pockets, which had recently begun to resemble frayed patches from so much nervous… clutching.

A small growl from the stomach region encouraged me to open my eyes and grudgingly get up, heading down to the kitchen to grab something, preferably pasta. As I trudged down, I was startled to see a very angry Romano there, along with Big Brother France and Spain. Luckily, for me anyway, they didn't see me before I saw them, so I quickly ran back upstairs and threw on my uniform jacket. What was with all the intruders today?

My bare feet were shoved into boots, which then pounded down the stairs in a hurried panic as I arranged the expected facial features. Spain saw me first, and he smiled widely.

"Ita-chan!" he cried, reaching out to hug me. I ran to him with a smile that could rival his.

"Ve~, Spain-nii-chan! Ciao~!"

Romano pouted angrily. "Hey, Tomato B-"

I'll spare you the rest of what he said and leave it to your imagination.

"-, he's my fratello, I wanna talk to him!" he finished, his arms folded across his chest, his brown eyes glaring fiercely at the Spaniard. The man in question just laughed and hugged my brother tightly, provoking a creeping blush to appear on Roma's scowling face. He sputtered out what might have been words and attempted to push the other off, but failed and finally gave up. I smirked inwardly at this. Happiness just got you negative attention. Fratello and his dear Spain were perfect proof of that.

France walked up to me as the other two were bickering in the background and placed a steady hand on my thin shoulder. Actually, it was thinner than usual, since I had started starving myself. Who needed sustenance?

"Italy, is there something wrong? You can tell me, mon ami." he stated, an honest-to-goodness worried look in his eyes. Who knew the guy could be anything besides a flirt? Impressive, Francey.

At this point, Romano rejoined the conversation. "If that potato b- did anything to you, just say so, and I'll f- kill him!" he yelled from the corner, in which Spain had almost cornered him. He was putting up a decent fight for an Italian, really.

+Germany POV+

I was in the middle of a large stack of paperwork when I got the call. I almost didn't answer, but something told me to pick up the sleek black phone, so I followed those instincts. I had a haunting feeling that it would have something to do with Italy. As I held the phone to my ear, I heard the unmistakable voice of France, one of my most unfavorable enemies. What could he possibly want?

I listened intently, waiting for him to stop speaking in rushed French so I could understand what he was talking about.

"Allemagne, Allemagne! La coupe de l'Italie! Nous sommes allés à sa maison et j'ai vu ses poignets, mais il ne savait pas si le petit cutie pensait que nous ne savions pas, mais nous le faisons, et nous ne pouvons rien faire à ce sujet -"

I interrupted before he could get any farther. "Could you please speak in a language I can understand?" I said, an underlying growl evident.

"Oh, pardon! Of course, of course! What I meant to say was that I was just at Italy's house, and I found out that he's seriously depressed, judging by the scars on his wrists. He thought we hadn't seen, but we did, so… since you are his lover, I thought you could do something about it…"

"He's vhat?" I said, alarmed. Was this true? Italy, the happy-go-lucky, bouncy weakling Italy that I knew, was cutting? Why? I frowned. This was a serious problem. "Vhat do you vant me to do about it?"

"Well, you could go over to his house and get him alone, for one thing. Then, when he's least expecting it-"

I stopped him there. "I'll just talk to him." I said, about to hang up. Before I did, France got serious again.

"Please do. He needs all the help he can get, Germany. Adieu!" And with that, he hung up before I could. I set the phone down and sighed, pushing the chair back so I could stand, then scribbled a note to my boss about why the paperwork wasn't done. I almost ran out the door in my hurry to get to my ally, feelings of I didn't even know what building up inside my chest. As I drove to Italy's house, the feeling that was most dominant decided to graduate from my chest and hang over me entirely.

That feeling was dread.


	4. Chapter 4

+Italy POV+

I lay on my back, my eyes closed and my mouth positioned in a straight line. A new pattern of red lines adorned my wrist, where I was quickly losing room. I would have to move on to my upper arm next time. My jacket was slung over the arm of the sofa I was lounging on. well, maybe 'lounging' was the wrong word; I was far too stiff and uncomfortable. If even one more person bothered me today, I swear I'd-

I heard a knock at the door. It was hurried and frantic, I could tell, and the owner was obviously a larger man. I sighed and rubbed my eyes as I rolled of the sofa and stood, throwing my jacket over my shoulders and answering the door.

There stood that tall albino- Prussia, Germany's brother-, breathing heavily with a hand at his side gripping a small box.

"Ve~?" I exclaimed softly, slightly confused. He seemed confused as well, and glanced around before straightening up and shrugging.

"Hm, zhe Awesome Me seems to have zhe wrong house. I vas thinking zhat zhis vas Birdie's place… Vell, see you, Happy Italian!" he said as he waved a goodbye and jogged off, a frown returning to his normally arrogant face. I wondered vaguely who this 'Birdie' was, and what was wrong with them, but dismissed it. No need to worry about other people. It just wasted time.

I flopped back onto my sofa and buried myself in cushions, refusing to get up again. Ever.

Well, too bad for me, the author of my life hated me. Not that their feelings aren't mutual.

+Germany POV+

I ran up to Italy's door and paused to catch my breath and think about what I was doing. Why had I come running? It was his business what he did… But he was my dearest ally, even if he wasn't the most useful. The frown grew more pronounced on my face as I raised my fist to knock. When he didn't answer, I tried again.

What was taking him so long? I knocked once more, straining to hear anything beyond the barrier called a door. When I once again heard nothing, I panicked. Who wouldn't?

Well, actually… me, for starters. Under normal circumstances, I would probably be calm and collected about this, so why was I panicking now, and for Italy at that? I shook my head and banged my fist against the door. If he didn't answer…

Okay. I tried the doorknob, but it was locked. I would have to break down the door. Italy wasn't answering, and I was beyond worrying. I was somewhere in between frantic and hysterical.

I braced my arms against my side and ran at the door, my shoulder ramming into it and forcing it open.

"Italy!" I called, running into the living room. There he was, on his liege, his arms slung casually, limply, over his stomach, showcasing rows and rows of uneven scars. I knelt down beside him and shook his shoulder. "Italy, answer me!"

The boy's eyes flew open. "What the f-" he stopped when he saw me, his light brown orbs narrowing and darkening. "What do you want?"

"I- Italia…" I started, a knife of relief piercing my chest. He stopped me.

"How did you- oh. Accidenti!" he mumbled, cursing in his native language as he spotted the door. I stood back up and frowned. Why was he being so unfriendly, when he usually covered up with a laugh or something?

Oh, it must've been because I saw his arms, and he knows it. I flinched as he abruptly sat up, throwing the mound of pillows off like an unwanted blanket, and looked at me. His eyes were actually very pretty, he should have them open more often.

"So, what in the name of Hell do you want?" he asked again, a scowl adorning his face. Who knew he could sound so much like his brother? I swallowed and cleared my throat.

"Vell, I just came to check on you, vishes of your bruder France. I vas only going to stay a few minutes, but not anymore."

"Good. I didn't want to see you anyway."

"I'm staying here for a few weeks, if you don't mind."

"What? No!" he cried, his weak fists balled up. I stared at him, wondering how he could change so drastically in a matter of a few hours. That's how long it had been since I'd last seen him…

I rolled my shoulders and straightened my back, looking down at the Italian and making up my mind. I would stay until he was okay, until I knew he would never hurt himself again.

+Italy POV+

How could he? How _could_ he? Stupid France, you perverted idiot! You just had to go and tell that meat-headed German, didn't you? And now he's staying here! At my house! This is a horrible, terrible day. Just like all the rest.

I sighed and hid my face in my hands, resisting the urge to scream. Germany was staying in the guest room that Romano usually used, and I was planting myself up in my room. Forever. I didn't even care if he came up here and started dragging me out, I was staying right here in this exact spot.

I fell asleep to the sound of nothing, still sitting cross-legged and with my head still cradled in my hands, and awoke in that same position six hours later.

The creaking of boots on floorboards woke me up, and I wondered if someone had broken in for a moment before I remembered last night. Oh, that frikkin' German was here… that's right.

I rolled off the bed and stretched, the sight of my arms bare and scarred making me smile dourly. I slipped on a white and blue tee shirt, not bothering with my uniform, and padded slowly downstairs, thinking about just skipping breakfast again. Several countries wondered how I kept so skinny, but I never told the real reason. They might've suspected something.

I looked up as I reached the door to the kitchen and saw a large back, topped with a blonde head. I grimaced and punched the door frame softly. Germany.

"What are you doing in my kitchen?" I asked, eyebrows furrowed. He turned and saw me, then winced at the sight of my arms. I smirked at the thought of making him uncomfortable.

"Making you breakfast." he answered, turning back to the frying pan gripped in his strong hand and flipping some sausages.

"Oh really?" I muttered, walking over to sit down at the table. "Why?"

"So you'll eat somezing, zat's vhy." he practically growled at me, apparently annoyed by my presence. More smirking. "Oh, and Japan vill be visiting today. You might vant to be in uniform vhen he does, ja?"

My face fell. So now I'd have Asian's invading my house? I cursed under my breath. How many more did that darned author have to cause me misery?


	5. Chapter 5

+Japan POV+

"Herro, Germany-san." I bowed, smiling at seeing my friends again. I turned to Italy. "And herro, Itaria-kun."

The younger boy smiled and waved energetically. "Ve~ Hello, Japan!" he replied, his bouncy manner brightening my smile. Glancing at Germany, though, I realized he did not share my feelings.

"Germany-san, what's wrong?" I asked, walking up to him (still keeping a safe distance to avoid physical contact) and looking up at his stormy blue eyes.

"Oh, it's nozhing, Japan. Nozhing at all."

"Of course, gomen'nasai."

A loud voice burst out from behind me. "Your breasts are mine~ Da ze!" it cried, jumping on me and attempting to grab me. Used to it, I stepped out of the way and the intruding sibling landed on Germany instead.

"Vhat zhe-"

"Ah, hey! You're that muscular German Kiku talks about all the time!" South Korea said, sitting up on Germany's stomach and smiling widely.

"Yong Soo, get off of Germany-san right now!" I scolded, coming over to try and lift my little brother off of my ally.

"Aw, fine. His stomach wasn't any comfortable anyway~ Da ze." he pouted, folding his arms, his curl frowning along with him. I shook my head and bowed again, shooing South Korea out of the house. "Go find Hong Kong and Taiwan, I'm busy, arright?"

He pouted again and sulked out the door, glaring playfully at me. When he was gone, Italy closed the door, a confused look on his face.

"Vhat vas zhat?" Germany asked, scratching his head.

"Ah, that was my brother, South Korea. He insisted on coming arong with me." I explained, turning to my two allies.

"Ve~ Now that he's gone, who wants pasta~?"

+Italy POV+

I knew it! The Asians have some conspiracy against me! That's the only possible way to explain that tornado of- of- Korean! I blew off my suspicions by offering pasta, but that experience had been slightly disturbing. And when he was sitting on Germany's stomach, why did I get a pang in my own stomach? Was I having food withdrawal symptoms again?

I shook my head and busied myself with the pasta, absent mindedly rolling up my sleeves. I usually did that when I cooked, but had gradually stopped after I had started cutting. I guess old habits died hard… stupid habits. Why I had rolled up my sleeves… I would never fully know, but it was a frikkin' stupid idea.

Because right then, Japan walked in.

"Excuse me, Itaria-kun, can I-" he stopped when he saw my arms, speechless. after a few still moments, he started again. "G- gomen'nasai, um, I was just wondering if I could herp in any way. I'rr be reaving, then…"

I sighed. Now another idiot knew. Great, just fabulous. I frowned at Japan's retreating back and thought of several violent deaths, but dismissed them. Too much work.

Slamming the bowl of noodles onto the counter, I pulled my sleeves down and walked swiftly back into the sitting room. He was still there, talking with Germany. I had a pretty good idea of what they were talking about. Neither noticed me, so I went back to the kitchen and finished making the pasta, separating it onto the plates and whisking into the other room.

"Ve~ Pasta's ready!" I tried, glancing at Japan. He just frowned unsteadily and took his plate. Darn it, seriously! Why did he have to be so good at reading the mood and refraining from speech?

We sat down and began eating, residing in an awkward silence before Japan stood up again and bowed, his plate clean on the table. "Thank you for the meal. I must be going now, excuse me." And with that warm good bye, he hurried out of the room. I heard the door shut softly, leaving only Germany and I.

"So, he saw."

I nodded. "Yeah, so what? Not like he has any other friends, anyway."

Germany glanced at me sternly. "Zhat's not true."

"Sure it is. No please excuse me, sir, while I put your plate away." I picked up the plates and trudged back to the kitchen, piling them into the sink and leaving them be, not bothering to clean them. Not like I ever did, but…

Germany was still sitting in the same position when I walked back into the sitting room. I sighed and turned, making a split-second decision to go upstairs to my room instead. Germany just watched me go, his piercing blue eyes never leaving me.

/+/

_Italy. Italy._

What? Who was calling my name? The voice sounded so familiar…

_Italy. I'm back._

I turned to see the one boy who had ever made me happy. He was standing there, his black cape fluttering around his legs and his hat sitting lopsided in his blonde hair.

Holy Roman Empire.

I could feel my legs growing weak. "What? How? You- you're dead. You're dead!" I stuttered, half of me scared and the other half happy to see him, ecstatic even.

_Dead? No, never! Not while you're still alive and happy._

To anyone else, those words might have sounded romantic and sentimental, but the menacing tone behind them squashed any hope I had had about that. "What do you mean?" my voice was trembling. Darn it.

_You believed I was dead. Don't you have any faith in me? You really think I would break my promise?_

"I- Yes, I mean, it's human nature-"

_But Italy, we're not human._

"We might as well be!" I had noticed that he had Germany's eyes, but they now held a threatening glint.

_You betrayed me, Italy. You never believed in me, did you?_

"No, I-"

The boy ran at me, slowly growing until he became a familiar muscled figure. I gasped and closed my eyes, cold hands grabbing my arms-

Then I awoke to the sound of screaming. I pulled my blankets up to my chin, realizing it was me making all the noise, but unable to stop. That dream... what had caused that dream? It might not have been a nightmare, but it brought back so many nightmarish memories. And I wanted them to stop, go back to being buried underneath the newer thoughts of my mind.

My door swung open, revealing a heavily-breathing Germany with no uniform jacket or boots on. "Italy, vhat's wrong?" he asked loudly from the doorway.

I turned to him with scared eyes, the screaming subsiding. I just shook my head and turned away, wiping away tears I hadn't known were there. I felt a tilt in the mattress and realized that Germany had sat down on the bed.

"Italy, tell me vhat's wrong. I vant to help."

I sighed and tried to glare at him, but failed, settling for a simple scowl. "Nothing. It was just a nightmare, okay?" I knew I should feel afraid of the man, considering the content of the dream, but strangely, I was comforted by his steady, gruff voice. It was a while before I realized his hand was on my shoulder and he was talking.

"-want to talk about it?"

I assumed he was asking about the dream. "No." I turned away from him again and stayed that way until I heard him sigh, get up, and leave the room, the door still slightly ajar. The room felt strangely empty without his hulking presence.

Then I realized that I had cried for the first time in decades.


End file.
